


My Mr. President

by casey270



Category: Adam Lambert (Musician), Political RPF
Genre: Air Force One, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-26
Updated: 2012-10-26
Packaged: 2017-11-17 02:43:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/546768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/casey270/pseuds/casey270
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>written for  this Cockbert prompt -<br/><a href="http://community.livejournal.com/teamcockbert/23290.html?thread=1541882#t1621242/">Air Force One </a> - a long time ago, but never posted here.  with the elections coming up & Adam's tweet about backing President Obama, it seemed like a good time to put it up here.</p>
            </blockquote>





	My Mr. President

**Author's Note:**

> nothing is real because it's all fiction.

Being invited to perform for the president of the United States is an honor in and of itself. Being flown to the performance on Air Force One makes it so much better. Having the President present on the flight is the icing on the cake.

Looking around at the private lounge, Adam can’t believe that this is what his life has become. The President had asked the staff to give them some privacy so that they could discuss just what type of show he would be putting on tonight, so they’re alone when the leader of the nation leans over and rests his hand on Adam’s thigh while saying, “You can call me Barack, by the way.”

And Adam has to get past the part about real life being stranger than any fantasy he could ever imagine as he answers, “I don’t think I could do that, Mr. President.”

 

“Suit yourself,” comes right back at him as the hand on his leg begins a strange massaging dance, moving closer to places that he’d never considered having to introduce to the president of the United States. “I can appreciate you using the title in this situation. Michelle never wants play that way, but I think it could be a stimulant to the situation.”

 

And, whoa, this can't really be happening, can it? The President--his President--can’t be thinking what he thinks he’s thinking, can he? But looking at the smirk that’s wearing the president’s face, he can’t not accept that this is the most fucked-up come-on he’s ever been party to.

 

His gulping swallow is audible to both of them as Adam tries to find some semblance of equilibrium. “I really didn’t expect this much personal attention, Mr. President. I’m a little confused right now. What part of tonight’s performance are we supposed to be talking about here?”

 

“The part about working in the message of always attaining the goals that we set,” answers the man with the power as he seems to challenge Adam with a look of determination. “I always get what I want–in the end.”

 

The shrill ‘eeep’ that leaves his mouth as the president’s hand finally makes it way to its desired target does nothing to enhance the mood, but neither does it seem to deter the president. Instead of sitting side by side as they had been, Adam finds he’s pinned to the back of the seat by one of Barack-Fucking-Obama’s hands, while the other hand is making itself very familiar with the material covering his dick. And why the hell did he think it was a good idea to go commando today? Freeballing at a command performance before **THE PRESIDENT OF THE UNITED STATES** seems like such a bad idea in retrospect, but he would have never thought of this consequence playing out, anyway. 

 

Besides, Adam might be able to get into this if he could just forget who he was here with. If he keeps his eyes closed this may not be such a bad thing, after all. Those hands seem to know what they’re doing, and he’s all about appreciating talent when he sees it. Or feels it, as the case may be.

 

But when he starts hearing his Mr. President saying dirty things to him as his zipper is being unzipped, Adam can’t keep blocking the who from the what. He has no choice but to accept that, yeah, he’s about to get down and dirty with the person responsible for leading his country. And, surprisingly, the thought is kind of turning him on a little bit. Well, more than a little bit, judging by how his cock is suddenly saluting The Commander In Chief. 

 

“Just what are your immediate goals, Mr. President?” Adam asks, using his best Marilyn Monroe voice, because this is like some trippy role-playing thing in his mind now.

 

“Relieving the tension of the diplomatic front with which I’m currently presented,” answers the smooth voice. “Creating a smoother path to be able to reach my desired objectives,” the president states as he pushes Adam’s pants down past his hips and finally grabs Adam’s cock.

 

Adam lets a little needy moan escape at this point, because he’s really getting into this now. Fuck the whole bureaucracy hierarchy. That’s Neil’s thing, anyway. He’s just here for the rock and roll. 

He decides to let himself go as he arches up against the president’s hand. And, no, Adam still can’t think of the man before him any other way, but it’s all okay in his mind now. He’s already playing for the president, just not in they way he’d been expecting. 

 

He really doesn’t know if he’s allowed to touch the man back, but that really seems to be moot when the president tells him to just relax and enjoy the ride. “You can take care of reciprocation at our next meeting,” the president tells him, and Adam kinda likes the sound of that.

He can’t look away now, because, holy shit, this is THE PRESIDENT that’s doing this to him. He sees when those lips that have addressed the nation as a whole close over his cock. He feels the tongue that’s achieved detente with the heads of foreign countries tease his leaking head. 

 

He fucking feels the man swallow him all the way down, and it’s just too much for him. He can’t hold back any longer, not even long enough to give the president any warning before he’s coming right down his throat. 

 

He really doesn’t know what to expect, but it certainly isn’t hearing the president say, “I think we’ve accomplished our goals for this evening,” as he wipes the back of his hand across his mouth. 

 

He feels strange as he’s putting himself back together and zipping up, but the wicked, sly look on the president’s face brings him right back to where he should be. He’s seen that look before, and he knows what it means. He’s got a debt to pay, and he owes a favor to be called in the future.

 

But it’s not an obligation he’s gonna mind having to pay back. Adam’s already making plans for what he’s going to do in the oval office when the plane lands.


End file.
